


More Than Words

by nbarker1990



Category: The Voice (US) RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-14 01:15:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7993261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nbarker1990/pseuds/nbarker1990
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The words ‘I love you’, spoken by a partner, lost their significance somewhat, you believe, when you found out that the reality behind them was betrayal, cheating, lying and cover-ups.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Than Words

The words ‘I love you’, spoken by a partner, lost their significance somewhat, you believe, when you found out that the reality behind them was betrayal, cheating, lying and cover-ups. It’s not even that you think Gavin _never_ loved you (although in your more bitter moments, you consider the possibility), but more that you’re not sure if you can ever wholly trust your judgment again, whether you’ll forever be second-guessing every sweet compliment (what’s the next secret to come out?) and thoughtful gift (what’s this an apology for?).

 

So the first time Blake says ‘I love you’, you’re not quite sure what you feel. Relief, firstly, because thank god you’re not in this alone, but fear, uncertainty, and a healthy dose of skepticism are in the mix too. His face falls when you don’t react ecstatically, when you hesitate for a moment too long, and you want to reassure the hell out of him because god knows his journey hasn’t been easy either, and his trust issues aren’t minimal.

“You don’t have to say it back,” he says softly, framing your face with his hands, his touch gentle in a way you’re still growing familiar with. “It’s okay. It doesn’t change anything.”

“Kinda does,” you admit ruefully, putting one of your hands over his, a gesture to say what your words can’t. “My reaction, it, it’s not that I don’t _feel_ it. You gotta know I do. I mean, sometimes I feel like I’m vomiting butterflies when I’m around you, I’m so happy. But - ”

“I don’t want you to lie. Even for me,” he insists, his voice choking on the last word. “Please don’t.”

And apparently you’re more of a fuck-up at communication than you’d thought. That was always one of the major things you’d talked about in therapy when you’d eventually convinced Gavin to attend with you. You’d had a habit of saying too much while avoiding the very real problems that needed addressing, while he, well, he’d either closed off completely or spoken in platitudes that never satisfied.

 

“I just wanted to tell you, y’know. That you’re loved.”

Your smile falters a little, and you find yourself blinking furiously, trying not to tear up. This sweet, sweet, stupid man is yours now, and…

“I love you,” he repeats, and maybe you don’t quite trust his words yet, but you do trust the way he looks at you, the way his eyes soften and the corners of his mouth tilt just as he realizes you’re about to stretch up on your tiptoes to capture his lips with your own.

“I love you too,” you whisper into his neck when he breaks the kiss. “Too much, maybe.”

His laugh is raw and throaty, and it warms you from the inside out. Disbelief is in his tone when he replies. “You mean it, though? I mean, really?”

“I can’t promise that I’ll always be the best girlfriend in the world, just like I’ll never be the best mom in the world. But I sure as hell won’t lie to you. I can promise you that.”

 

He nods, a simple acceptance that is all the more precious because you know it’s colored by his experiences just as much as your hesitance was affected by your own.

“I’ve been burned,” you admit to him, needing him to understand that your doubts aren’t his fault, even if they’ve become his burden. “You know that. Gavin was free and easy with his ‘I love you’s, but it didn’t make them any more genuine in retrospect, y’know. Like if he loved me, he wouldn’t have had all those affairs. That’s all it comes down to in the end, no matter how much people try to explain compartmentalization to me.”

“It’s just another lame, fucked up excuse, Gwen,” he says wearily. “It always is.”

“I used to _love_ hearing those words from him, a validation for my decisions to stay - ”

“Decisions?”

“It wasn’t the same for me. I’d discover an affair, I’d forgive him. A secret would be revealed, I’d defend him. I chose to stay. Over and over and freaking over again.”

“Sweetheart…” You only realize you’re crying when his rough fingertips wipe the tears away.

“It’s embarrassing,” you say into his shirt. “It just is. D’you know how many people – people I count as friends even – assumed we were in some kind of open marriage? They only mentioned it after the split, of course.”

“Helpful.”

“Right!? Maybe if they’d told me, I would’ve just stuck my head in the sand, though. I dunno.”

“My Mom told me I’d probably second-guess everything a lot. After. Kinda true. Like how much of what she said was real? Did she turn to others because she was lonely, or was that just a convenient excuse and she didn’t love me all that much anyway?”

 

Blake takes a deep breath, and you can feel his exhalation where your chest is pressed up against his. At first, when you’d started down the path of friendship and conversation (and, more importantly, commiseration), he’d been the one who’d opened up first, spilling all his secrets. You’re pretty sure he was trying to make you feel able to share too, and ultimately it’d worked. All the uncomfortable truths that had been _too_ uncomfortable to tell your parents or Jen or Sophie, he knows. It’s kinda crazy, really, just because giving anyone that much power and knowledge can seriously come back and kick you in the ass. You hope – desperately – that you’ve _finally_ made a good decision.

“Gwen?” he asks, his head falling heavy to your shoulder. “Can we go home now?”

 

The drive back to your house (him using the word ‘home’ has left you unsettled, but not in a bad way) is quiet, only broken up by him turning up the volume on Fleetwood Mac when Rhiannon comes on the radio, humming along enthusiastically. When you join in, softly along singing, he gives you a huge grin. Approval. Pleasure.

That night, as you come apart in his arms, you almost say the words again, only stop when you realize he didn’t say them either. Maybe that’s not fair, needing him to give you confidence. Maybe the words should be offered freely without expectation. But… Well, you’re not ready for that yet.

 

He doesn’t say ‘I love you’ for the rest of the week.

He says, “Can I help wash your hair?” He says, “Did you want me to come with you as support?” He says, “You’re way stronger than anyone realizes.” He says, “I crave your smiles.” He says, “I’m so proud of you.” He says, “You’re just as gorgeous right now as with your make-up on.” He says, “Is Apollo feeling any better this morning?” He says, “I can’t imagine my life without you now.”

 

And so, on Friday night, when you’re relaxing on the couch with his arm around you, half-watching the football (you’ve learned that Blake gets grumpy if he misses a Cardinals game), you decide to stop being a chicken and just ask. 

“Did _you_ mean it?”

At first, he looks slightly confused, but when he realizes, there’s a flash of joy in his eyes which speaks to your own contentment.

“When you said you loved me?” you clarify. Just in case.

“I meant it then. And I mean it now. Even when I don’t say it, I mean it.” His other hand comes to rest in your lap, fingers tapping out a staccato rhythm on the inside of your denim-clad thigh. “I thought you might need time,” he says eventually. “To get used to the idea. Things have been kinda - ”

“Fast.”

“Yeah,” he agrees with a small smile. “It’s been fast. But it’s also been the best gift I’ve ever gotten.”

“I don’t think God accepts returns. Just in case you feel tempted now you realize what you've gotten yourself in for.”

He leans in for a kiss, one of those casual-kisses-for-no-reason which you so adore. “I wouldn’t give you back even if He begged…”


End file.
